


The Glass Under Our Feet

by tactical_nuclear_penguin



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angry Fighting, Implied Past Relationships, M/M, Old Friends, Resolving Issues, plus some random headcanons, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 01:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7461198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tactical_nuclear_penguin/pseuds/tactical_nuclear_penguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened just before the Overwatch Recall to allow Soldier: 76 and Reaper to work along side each other without actively trying to kill each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Glass Under Our Feet

**Author's Note:**

> It always bugged me that they put zero explanation in Overwatch on how Jack and Gabe could just WORK RIGHT NEXT TO EACH OTHER without explanation. So I made a thing. There's Lightly Implied Gay™.

It had been years in the making.

Two diverging paths that continued to nearly cross, over and over. A distant red visor blending into a crowd. A shimmer of purple and black smoke, fading away into nothing. The two ghosts of men who once were, haunted the skeletons of former Overwatch compounds and labs; looking for bits of a life that were nearly now forgotten. They never really found what they wanted, though neither was completely sure what they were looking for. A clue. A scrap. Something to indicate corruption. Something to show that Overwatch had forced one of their hands into action.

Something to prove it wasn't their fault.

But there was nothing. Only leftover pieces of machinery. Pictures. Weapons. The items useful, but the information was surprisingly limited. Perhaps not-so-surprising, considering how Overwatch had been shut down. Anyone continuing the activities was breaking the law. Most - if not all - of the computers had been wiped. Equipment was recycled and repurposed elsewhere. All that was really left in all those facilities, were bits and pieces of mostly forgotten memories.

Jack sighed through his mask, as he forced open yet another file cabinet that lay on its side. A charred outline of a human form scarred its surface; worn away slightly from age, yet visible enough to bring a frown upon his lips. Aggressively ignoring the mark of death of another, he dug through the drawer - only to find ashes. The next had some files in tact, but they were finance reports that documented food supplies, and nothing else.

Running a hand through his white hair, he glanced around the room through his red visor - using the interface to scan the area.

It had been a long time since he had stood in that hall. Unlike the rest of the facilities, Jack had been actively avoiding this one. The Swiss base of operations had a more bitter taste than the rest. It's where it all ended. He ended. The tension with Reyes had grown too high, until it finally boiled over. They were both declared dead, the news had said. Graves placed with honor in a military cemetery back in the states.

Jack knew. He had visited them both.

In a sense, the news hadn't lied. Jack Morrison had died on that day, and everything he stood for. The bright-eyed farm-boy who saw the world through rose-tinted glass; he was very much no more. Instead, a husk of a man stood. Scarred. Old. Useless. A number remaining where a man once stood; Soldier 76.

Jack's visor locked onto something across the room - boots crunching through the debris as he moved forward. Brushing aside some rocks and charred...well he wasn't sure what that was, he found a bit of himself, he long thought lost.

A cracked blue visor sat within the rubble. The computer attached to the earpiece seemed to be long broken. Glass cracked and mostly missing.

Cradling the blue visor within his hand, a bit of a smile brushed his lips. Jack thought back to first putting it on - remembering how he got a bit motion sick at the interface. Reyes purposefully trying to make it worse, to mess with him. But once he actually got used to it...God, he was unstoppable.

A soft laugh slipped through Jack's lips, from beneath his mask.

But that wasn't him anymore. Nor had it been in a long time.

"Funny," a voice from behind him whispered - the tone far too familiar, "I never took you for the sentimental type."

Jack quickly stood, as arms seized him from behind - old visor falling to the ground. Attempting to throw himself back against a wall to get his assailant off, he felt a cold prickle gently lift the hairs on the back of his neck. As he threw himself back, his attacker appeared in front of him; Jack’s own back colliding against the wall with force.

He had seen the man before; many times in fact. The dark clothes - the eerie mask. Reaper, he called himself; though Jack was rather aware that wasn't his real name. The man seemed to haunt old Overwatch facilities, and carried a rumored affiliation with Talon. They seemed to have the same desires, for opposite reasons. Just like always.

"Nice trick," Jack commented, "Going to pull a coin out from behind my ear next?"

“You’re still not funny,” a deep voice that reminded him of boots grinding over gravel, assaulted his ears - erasing any doubts on who was behind the mask.

Gabriel Reyes. 

They had met back in the army. Hardly more than colleagues before they were both pulled into Overwatch. But after only a few weeks, they were inseparable. Possibly the best friend Jack had ever had. Even when their friendship developed into something else entirely, he was happy.

In fact, it’s possibly what he missed most.

But now they stood in the very place where it all ended. An argument that grew angrier and angrier. Weapons drawn. Fists flying. A gun suddenly pressed to Jack’s head, with eyes he once trusted above all else, filled with fire. It was in that moment he knew everything was lost. It was then that he knew he had lost Gabe.

And, well, everything.

Jack blinked, the vision of Gabe was replaced with Reaper - a Gun pressed to his head, as Reaper’s other arm pinned him to the wall. It was happening again. The only difference was that Angela wasn’t there to yell at them to separate. That Overwatch wasn’t crumbling under their fingertips, but rather already rested in dusty debris below their feet.

There was nothing left to lose, because they had already destroyed it all.

Jack’s fingers wrapped around Reaper’s wrist - attempting to push the shotgun away from his head.

He was partially successful.

Reaper’s shotgun went off as Jack pulled it aside; the edge of the spray hitting his visor - causing fissures to distort the glass, and his head to jerk to the side. There was a breath of a hesitation. A ghost of a moment where neither of them moved. It was Jack that broke the stillness, his fist connecting hard with Reaper’s stomach. A soft wheeze slipped out behind the white mask that obscured the other man’s features. Reaper repaid in kind - a hard fist to the jaw, then another directly to Jack’s visor.

The cracks grew worse.

Both men abandoned their weapon in interest of their fists. The fight quickly devolving into cheap punches and low blows. A fist to Jack’s weak left shoulder. A kick to Gabe’s busted right knee. Elbow to the throat. Knee to the stomach. Fingers seized Jack by the back of the neck, before slamming his face into a nearby column. Once. Twice. The fissures within his visor like cobwebs distorting his vision. The interface itself flickering as it struggled to remained responsive.

An elbow to the ribs got Reaper off of him - a knee to the haunting mask giving him far more satisfaction then it should have. The other man back-pedaled from the strong hit to the face, glancing up at Jack as he faded into a purple smoke that dropped into the floor. Knowing what happened last time, he wheeled around - only to find...nothing.

An empty hall with debris and questionable stains strewn over the peeling paint. He remembered what it used to look like. Two tones of gold adorned the wall; a dark line separating the two shades of paint. Frames with the latest accomplishment of Overwatch, evenly spaced out. Overhead, there were lights that changed depending on the weather outside or time of day. Different colors, different brightnesses.

God, he missed it.

A foot stepped down hard on the back of his leg, just under his knee. An elbow slamming into his kidneys. Jack fell forward from the sudden attack - arms lifting to cushion the impact, but his visor still hit the cement ground. The red glass shattered - drops of blood joining the shards, as he braced himself on his hands and knees.

Is this what he was now? An old man that could easily be shoved to the ground?

Reapers boot shoved Jack onto his back, masked head shaking.

“Pathetic.”

Jack’s fingers wrapped around a rock at his side, throwing at Reaper’s mask. The rock hit - causing him to quietly thank years of Little League. Reaper recoiled at the hit - fingers seizing the white mask and pulling it away from his face; other hand lifting to stop blood that was freely flowing from his nose.

It was the first look at Reaper - _Gabe_ \- Jack had, since learning the man wasn’t dead. There were scars he didn’t recognize. A feathering of white in the goatee he still managed to have after all these years. Grey freckled his dark curls, that were just peeking out from under his hood. But there was something...with his eyes. The whites were black. The dark brown irises tinted with red.

“Fuck, you got old,” Jack shook his head from the ground, propping himself up on an elbow. Gabe straightened his posture as he continued press a hand under his nose; unsettling eyes landing on the man on the ground.

“You’re one to talk.”

It was then Jack realized his visor was shattered - his own features as plainly visible as Gabe’s.

“Thought you died, Gabe.”

Without the mask, he could see his old friend react to his own name. Brows pinching together. Jaw setting. Something told Jack he hadn’t been called by his own name in quite some time.

“I did.”  
“Funny, you look alive to me.”

“Do I?” Gabe’s head tilting to the side as he pulled down his hood - red and black eyes narrowing into slits. In the dim light of the old base, Jack could have sworn there was almost animal-eyeshine within them. Bloodied hands falling to his sides and rolling into fists. As he stood there - faint amounts of smoke coiling up from his feet - Jack felt a cold chill run down his spine. It was like staring at a literal ghost. His very presence unnatural as much as his eyes.

Suddenly the name Reaper made too much sense to Jack.

“You’re still breathing,” Jack settled on the words after a touch of hesitation, pulling himself up to lean his back against a column. He entire body hurt, but he was worried of any sudden movements. Gabe was finally not attacking. Setting of a biotic field to tend his wounds, seemed a bit hazardous.

Gabe’s unsettling eyes fell to his stomach - watching it rise and fall. It felt a bit like a double-edged sword to Jack. On one hand it was a bit...endearing. A man staring at his own stomach to watch its rise and fall. On the other, Gabe wasn’t sure he actually needed to breathe.

“Jesus, what happened to you?” Jack asked, pulling at his broken visor, before setting it on the floor beside him. The cool breeze on his chin a bit refreshing.

“Death. What about you?” Gabe leaned back against the column behind him, arms crossing in front of his chest. The bleeding of his nose seemed to have slowed - his lips, chin, and goatee all stained with blood. Nose clearly broken.

“Less literal death,” Jack made a motion with his hand, “Let them think I was dead.”

“Smart.”

It was the longest and most civil conversation they had since Jack was promoted over him. That...put a bit of a bitter taste in Jack’s mouth. Some part of him just wanted to pretend none of it had happened. That he had turned down the promotion to stop… _it_. The final it. Overwatch fracturing. Gabe unable to even look at him without narrowing his eyes. That final battle that turned it all into ashes. None of it was worth a title. Worth the pay increase. Worth...anything.

“Why are you here, Jack? What are you looking for?”  
“Corruption. A sign that it wasn’t...us that caused this.”  
“We did.”  
“But the order to promote me—”  
“Made sense. I hated it, and hated you for taking it; but it made sense,” Gabe’s jaw clenching, before he spat some blood to the side, “They wanted a puppet to flaunt to the public. They wanted a man to tell everyone it was okay. You already did that as my second, but your words held more weight as the Commander,” Gabe leaned his head back against the column, “They promoted you to pacify the masses, Jack.”

Jack’s blue eyes drifted from Gabe, to the shattered remnants of his visor across the room. Had he really spent years, upon years looking for something that wasn't real? Chasing ghosts he had made up to help himself deal with what he had done? Jack already knew he could have handled it better. He could have been less harsh on Gabe’s reaction. He could have turned it down. And yet, he embraced it. Said some things he...now regretted to the man who now stood across from him.

It wasn’t corruption that destroyed Overwatch.

It was him.

“Fuck.”

Beside him, his visor’s interface attempted to spark to life - something on Gabe’s wrist doing the same. Picking up his mostly shattered visor, he glanced in the few parts that were still in place. An Overwatch logo spun, with coordinates that were a bit hard to make out through the cracks.

Someone had triggered the Overwatch Recall.

Jack glanced up at Gabe to voice his disbelief. To say something about mixed feelings and how it should stay dead. Yet all that remained were drops of blood that were slowly dissolving away into smoke.

Finally throwing down the biotic field, Jack brought the Recall up on his watch, properly reading what little information was being provided.

Maybe it was time to fix what he had destroyed.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope none of you burst into flame from reading my trash.
> 
> I'm considering doing a few others (like their backstory and maybe present them stuff), but figured I'd get this one-shot up next before descending too far into fic hell.
> 
> Thanks for reading <333


End file.
